


Hold On, Stay

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: She drifts slightly too much to the right. Benvolio laughs. “You’re gonna kill us.”“Don’t pin this on me,” says Rosaline, quickly straightening the car. Sitting up, she adjusts her grip. “You started it!”





	Hold On, Stay

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW, sexual content. This was inspired by a Wade Briggs interview in which he said: "...Girls’ clothing is much easier to work with." I truly cannot be blamed.

Rosaline doesn’t mind driving. It’s not her favorite thing in the world - but she doesn’t _hate_  it. And when it’s a quick drive back to their place after a lunch date, it’s really not that bad.

But Benvolio is distracting.

“What are you doing?”

Benvolio’s hand rests on her knee, his thumb drawing lazy circles. “Nothing.” At her snort of disbelief, he chuckles. “What, is your boyfriend not allowed to touch you?”

"Sure,” she says, glancing at him quickly before turning back to the road and readjusting her grip on the steering wheel. “But I don’t trust you.”

“Ouch.” His voice is light and his hand slides higher up her thigh, just below the fabric of her dress. “I’m wounded.”

“You sound very hurt.” Rosaline keeps her eyes on the road, but there’s an ache pooling in her belly, especially when Benvolio’s hand rises even higher. Squirming, she tries to elbow him, even as her eyes flicker closed briefly. “I’m going to crash.”

His hand stills. “You want me to stop?”

“No.”

She can _hear_ him smirking, his fingers lightly grazing over her panties. Unconsciously, she bucks into him and he hisses. Even so far away, his hot breath covers her, and Rosaline acutely feels every nerve. His other hand plays with the tips of her hair, curling them around his fingers.

His thumb pointedly rubs over her clit. She bites her lip to keep from moaning but Benvolio circles her again and this time she lets out the deep sigh, her fingers burning against the leather in her hands. 

“Fuck me,” she groans as his fingers lazily spiral against the skin of her inner thighs. 

He grins. “I thought I was.” Normally, she’d kiss him silent, retaliate by grabbing and stroking, or sucking along his shoulders or neck or chest - but she’s _driving_  and he’s pushing aside her panties.

His fingers are cold and everything is so, _so_  hot.

She drifts slightly too much to the right. Benvolio laughs. “You’re gonna kill us.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” says Rosaline, quickly straightening the car. Sitting up, she adjusts her grip. “You started it!”

In response, he inserts a finger into her.

“ _Fuck._ ” Benvolio grabs onto her for balance when she swerves, pulling over into the farthest lane. She doesn’t bother looking for anywhere with a semblance of cover - the gas station at the corner is enough.

Even though his hands stay on her - his fingers running up and down, his thumb occasionally passing over her clit, the slick sounds of her arousal the only companion to the rumble of the car’s engine - Rosaline doesn’t let herself think about it until she finally parks and removes the keys. The moment the engine stops, however, she moves to unlock her seatbelt. “I’m going to - “

Benvolio stops her from moving, holding her shoulder. “Hold on, stay.” The hand keeping her back moves to remove his seatbelt and once freed, Benvolio draws close enough that his mouth hovers by her ear. “Let me?”

Rosaline can only nod, because his whispers are enough to send her over, but his tight grip on her shoulder and the unpredictably of his fingers as they dance over every part of her center - she’s vibrating somewhere between release and frustration, shocks of pleasure dancing in her veins. One of her hands clutches the door handle while the other latches onto his arm.

“Relax,” he whispers and the shivers shoot straight down to her belly. Bucking into his hand, Rosaline sighs. Slowly, Benvolio inserts another finger, his thumb spiraling over her clit. The rush of sensations is too much - there’s no rhythm for her to keep from this angle, just a mess of thrusts, an attempt to get closer. 

He tries to steady her, anchor her, and in a way he does - Rosaline relaxes into him and he kisses along her jaw. Pressure mounting in her core, she digs her fingers into his bicep as his fingers continue to pump into her - slowly, _too slowly_ , building and rising and the angle must be awkward for him -

But frankly, she doesn’t really care.

“Is this good?” he says, slightly quickening his pace. Rosaline nods, trying to matching his rhythm - she shakes, every inch of skin and bone and muscle ready for the release, especially when his mouth latches onto her shoulder. “Come for me, Ros.”

His voice - and his hands and his kisses and _him_  - sends her over.

Rosaline lets out a deep breath as Benvolio eases her down, holding her and whispering into her neck ( _there you go, I’ve got you, god you’re beautiful_ ). When his mouth finally reaches her, she kisses him gently, enjoying the softness of his lips, the way he doodles on her legs, his smug smile.

Once she catches her breath, she unhooks her seatbelt. At the _click,_ Benvolio frowns and sits back in his seat. “What - ?”

Rosaline swings herself ungracefully over the center of the car to straddle him. Despite an elbow to the chest, Benvolio laughs. Rosaline shuts him up with another kiss, this one longer and harder, her fingers drifting down his chest. “My turn,” she whispers, her nose circling his, before her hand quickly undoes his belt.

Benvolio runs his hands up her sides; despite how long they’ve been together, despite the number of times they’ve done _this_  - be intimate, hold each other’s naked bodies and souls in their hands - the tenderness and awe in his smile still surprises her. 

She kisses him in the hopes his lips will catch the pieces of her heart when it bursts.

Rosaline finally reaches her target - his cock is smooth and warm in her hands, definitely hard, and definitely aching for her touch. Benvolio groans when she strokes him, twisting her wrist at the end with a tiny bit of pressure from her thumb. She smirks, especially when he thrusts upward.

She keeps her strokes slow, running her thumb over his tip every time, kissing his forehead and nose and lips and jaw and shoulder. When she pauses, a slight cramp in her arm, he hisses.

Rosaline grins. “You deserve it.” She switches hands, but her left hand is not as adept as her right, and the strokes are uneven and Benvolio groans in a mixture of frustration and concern. “Sorry - let me just - “

He grabs both of her hands. Bringing them to his lips, Benvolio kisses each knuckle and Rosaline can’t look away from his shining eyes. “I have a better idea,” he says. Using her hand, he reaches into his back pocket - Rosaline squeezes his ass appropriately - and pulls out his wallet. Without words, she pulls out the condom, dumps his wallet into the cupholder, and presses down on the lever to push down his seat.

“Much better.” Benvolio pulls her down to him and kisses her; the movement sends his cock rubbing against her center and she moans into his mouth. Benvolio thrusts against her. “If you don’t stop doing that I’m going to rip your panties off.”

Rosaline smirks into his lips and pointedly rubs herself against him again.

The rip of her panties doesn’t surprise her as much as how _quick_  it comes; she must have underestimated how close he is, for his eagerness is quickly apparent when he reaches between them to put on the condom and to line his cock against her opening. Rosaline shakes her head, a fond smile sneaking onto her lips, and when Benvolio raises an eyebrow, she caress his cheek.

She sinks onto him, closing her eyes, and _feels._

_“Fuck_ ,” she whispers, her hands now resting on his chest as she slowly gets used to him inside of her. She circles her hips and Benvolio’s hands dig into them. Guiding her, supporting her, Benvolio watches her. Rosaline lifts herself before sinking down again. “Fuck!”

The curses leave her mouth quickly, and Benvolio’s tongue isn’t any better - a stream of incomprehensible noises mixed with her name echo in the car. One of her hands drifts upwards, pressed against the ceiling, as he meets her thrusts with her own.

It feels _good_ , and Rosaline doesn’t want to stop - but Benvolio shivers, fingers digging into her skin, and she understands. Biting her lip, she rides him faster and his eyes fly open - he catches her gaze, and maybe he sees the determined glint in her eye. Or maybe his orgasm is just too close for him to really think at all.

A moment later, he closes his eyes. Several moments later, and Benvolio gasps as he comes in spurts, a glow in his cheeks. He lets out a low chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

Rosaline leans down on top of him to kiss his lips. “Good?”

“God, so good.”

She laughs and he kisses her forehead. “You should drive more often.”

“Hell no.”


End file.
